When the Rain Came
by bertiebert
Summary: A summer storm can do much more than just water the garden. Written for Summer of Sherlock.


The soft patter of rain on the window was enough to rouse Lestrade from his fitful nap. Mycroft had been dealing with a particularly grueling emergency that had needed his attention _right that minute_ about three hours ago. With nothing else to do in the Holmes summer house, Lestrade had opted for a nap as he'd gotten little sleep the night before. But you don't need to know about that.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Lestrade rubbed his face and ran a hand through his thick graying hair. He crossed the room, touching the window as droplets of water snaked down the glass. He'd always liked the way summer rain felt on his skin, fresh and cool in the heat. Pulling on a T-shirt and shorts, Lestrade padded past Mycroft's office and down the stairs. He went to the back door and unlocked it before pulling it open. The rain wasn't heavy but the drops were big enough to begin soaking his shirt with the first few steps into the garden. Underfoot there was plush grass, dewy with rainwater, and plants surrounded the little pathway that led to a pool. It was a beautiful garden and Lestrade knew how Mycroft loved it. It gave the British government official a place that was peaceful and let him escape the stresses of his life.

The leaves rustled as Lestrade brushed his hand under them, catching the water that dripped off. He spotted a strawberry plant a few steps ahead and, plucking a fruit from the stem, nearly moaned at the sweet taste. Tossing the leafy part of the fruit into the closest compost pile, Lestrade continued on through the garden. He eventually pulled off the soaked T-shirt, leaving it on the grass as if it was a bread crumb trail for Mycroft to follow.

As Lestrade was dipping his hand in the pool, testing the temperature, he heard the muted noise of the backdoor shutting. Grinning to himself, Lestrade snuck down the other pathway that led toward a beautiful white gazebo. The gazebo had been the setting of Sherlock and John's civil partnership ceremony the summer before. Although Sherlock loved his coat, he preferred the summer months for reasons unknown to Lestrade. _Probably has to do with John and no clothing_, Lestrade thought to himself. The detective inspector took a few steps down the grassy path, but at that moment, Mycroft jogged into view at the opening by the pool. He carried Lestrade's T-shirt in his hands, the material darker with water. Mycroft was wearing a light summer shirt and linen trousers, but he was barefoot. Lestrade knew that Mycroft only ever went barefoot indoors. It didn't mean much but it still made Lestrade smile knowing Mycroft had forgone shoes to find him quicker.

Spotting Lestrade, Mycroft grinned and started toward him. Thunder rolled deeply in the distance, but the men paid it no mind. Mycroft caught Lestrade's face in his hands the moment he was close enough. Their lips touched before Lestrade could do or say anything. Mycroft's hand slipped as it tried to find purchase on Lestrade's rain-slick back. Lestrade gripped the British government's shirt, the thin material already soaked through, and moaned softly into the deepening kiss. Mycroft brought a hand up to Lestrade's cheek, pressing him back gently.

"Let's move to the gazebo, love. The rain is coming down harder now," Mycroft murmured, kissing the corner of the detective inspector's mouth.

Smiling, Lestrade grabbed Mycroft's wrist and tugged him along as he started to run towards the shelter. Mycroft followed and, Sherlock be damned, loved running after Lestrade. The only exercise Mycroft would take part in involved Lestrade and minimal clothing. But if the other man wanted him to run, by God, Mycroft would run a thousand miles for him. Thunder crashed, closer this time, just as the two men made it into the gazebo. Lestrade found a blanket underneath one of the benches and spread it out across the floor. Mycroft pressed against Lestrade's shoulders and the detective inspector sank to his knees. The government official joined him and Lestrade started on his buttons. Once the light shirt, soaked through with rain, had been discarded, Mycroft pushed Lestrade down onto the blanket and hovered over him. Both men grinned at each other before kissing sweetly, rain still cool and wet on their faces. It didn't take long to rid themselves of the rest of their clothing, pressing their naked bodies close as rainwater began to evaporate. When Mycroft produced a bottle of lube from the pocket of his sodden trousers, Lestrade laughed, feeling freer than he had in a long time.

* * *

><p>Lestrade's head rested on Mycroft's chest, listening as he breathed in and out and the gentle reverberation of his heart beating. The two most wonderful sounds Lestrade had ever heard. Rain still pattered on the gazebo's roof, but the two men paid it no mind. It didn't bother them. In fact, later on that evening as they were making dinner and thunder rumbled in the distance, both men found them abandoning dinner to make love in the garden as rain fell more softly than before all around them.<p> 


End file.
